


ice crystals

by redlight



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anxiety, Astronauts, Crying, Friendship, Galaxy Garrison, Gen, RevHOLT Zine, Shiro Is A Good Friend, matt is a mess highkey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-05 22:55:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15181154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redlight/pseuds/redlight
Summary: Matt might be having one too many sleepless nights, and he might be stressing out a little too much over the fast-approaching Kerberos mission, and he might be on the verge of breaking down, but –But Shiro is a ridiculous, wonderful friend, so Matt? He can handle this – he'll figure it out.





	ice crystals

**Author's Note:**

> this was my piece for the [vld RevHOLT zine](https://vldmattzine.tumblr.com/), a fanzine dedicated to our favorite boy matt :DD it was my first zine and a super fun project to work on!!!

So the last time Matt screwed up _this_ badly was back in second year, when he tried to perform Millikan's experiment with Shiro’s nail polish instead of oil. 

They almost fucked up the _entire_ apparatus, and Iverson was _mad_ ‘bout the whole thing – eye-searingly, horribly mad, and Shiro was _scandalized_ – but him and Matt never got discovered, so! There’s that!

...Actually, _maybe_ this time is worse.

It's not his sleep schedule, seriously – well, okay, maybe it _is_ his sleep schedule, and _maybe_ Matt's sleep schedule is a bit of a mess, and maybe _Matt_ is a bit of a mess, and maybe Matt needs to take a breather or _something_ but – 

Nah.

Doesn't matter if Shiro's looking him up and down, like, " _hey, Matt, have you slept? You should stop stressing yourself out_ ," or if that cutesy blue-eyed kid he tutors sometimes raises his eyebrows and asks Matt, " _do you want some of my lunch? You really should eat_ , " but Matt is fine, he's _fine_ , he really is – 

He just gets. Caught up? On his thesis. On his training. He gets _rampant-frantic_ and works in mad-dash sprints – because Matt has a _problem_ , something his dad's lectured him about because _Mattie, you gotta stop coasting, you gotta put some effort in, you gotta learn-learn-learn_ , and well – 

Okay, it's _not_ his sleeping schedule, but maybe it is.

He needs to get this report done, and then he needs to show up for physical training at 6am at the earliest – but then he forgets to _eat_ ,and then Trainer Montgomery gets _concerned_ andtells him that he needs to _eat properly_ ,he's gotta gain _muscle mass_ for what he might lose in space, he needs those _healthy habits_ – 

But, yeah, whatever, _okay_ , he'll eat breakfast tomorrow.

And – the other thing is – well, alright, okay, _well_ – 

The sleep schedule thing. 

He stayed up to talk to Pidge – not that _long_ , only ‘til 8pm, it’s _fine_ , and in space he’ll only be able to talk to her and Mom _periodically_ , every major transmission, every _three weeks_ because they’re gonna spend a _year_ out there. 

And _then_ he had to get Iverson's mission report all bundled up together, and _then_ there was his lab on rocket fuel efficiency, and _then_ his lab about ice-IX – no, not _that_ ice-nine that destroyed the world in that one book from decades ago. But, well, the lab’s about different crystalline structures of ice that isn’t amorphous and _maybe just maybe_ he's a little exhausted but hey, listen – _listen_! 

It's not Matt's fault, that he'll sleep at 11pm then wake up at 1am, sleep and then wake up at 2am, sleep and wake up at _4-5-6am_ , except _no_ , he _can't_ go back to sleep at 6, he's gotta get – _up_!

And then he rushes headfirst into Shiro's beautiful barrel chest at 8:30 – _no, wait, it's 9am, isn’t it_ , oh, shit, he's _late_ – but he falls into Shiro, and Shiro's a _terrible_ best friend and teammate, _who doesn't even catch Matt in his buff beautiful arms_.

It’s a tragedy. A travesty. 

Not that Matt's jealous of those arms or anything. He's got _guns_ , seriously – no, _seriously_ , no matter what Pidge says when she's half asleep on vid-call with her hair in her face and her smirk dizzy-bleary with exhaustion. She's an exhausted teenager in another timezone, so of _course_ her perspective is unreliable, even if she _is_ his baby sister.

Anyway, the point is, Shiro – Shiro's got two cups of coffee in his hands. He doesn’t even drop them when Matt shoves into him, which is a _skill_ worthy of the never-ending expanse of the cosmos. It’s the cheap, instant shit, though – that's what Shiro drinks, completely black and soulless so you're _awake_ and not inclined to go taste Hell earlier than you have to – well, yeah, there's _Shiro_ , a hero, a legend, a true savior, and he doesn't even drop anything.

Holy hell. What a god.

Well, maybe Matt makes Shiro drop just a droplet, black and tarrish like Millikan's experiment, and _oh yeah, Matt screwed up_.

"Hi," Matt says. Is he breathless? He's not breathless. He's in godly shape, maybe not as much as Shiro is – but _listen_ , he _is_ , he _tries_ , and he – he _didn't_ throw up and cry after his first space-prep physical training three months ago. Seriously. He's _strong_.

– Ugh, who's he kidding.

Shiro's giving him that puppy-dog look of _concern_ , even as he hands Matt the thermos of coffee. (And Matt isn’t making grabby hands for it, or anything.) 

Like, Shiro’s big bleary gray eyes are narrowed in apprehension, and his mouth is twisted in a way that just _aches_ with worry, and _wow_ , suddenly Matt's remembering he's got a human heart. That he's more than robot wiring and artificial intelligence, because that _look_ just pulls at all his metaphorical heartstrings.

Matt takes a sip of the coffee – those big plastic thermoses that don’t really _stay_ hot longer than an hour and a half, but – this is enough, it's as fresh as instant espresso can be and Matt _relishes_ it, okay?

A diet of coffee and cigarettes is like – terrible. He used to do that, all through second year, third year, he _might've_ gotten Shiro a lil bit addicted too. Which is bad, and Shiro’s _still_ mad at him for it, but _hey_ , they’re the ones assigned to the Kerberos mission now, so – 

So Trainer Montgomery made them stop cold turkey. Which is – kinda rough.

Shiro _says_ he's fine, even if the look in his eyes is always tired and melancholy ( _such_ a puppy, he’s got the heartbreaking eyes and everything, _god_ , Shiro’s gonna go _far_ in life with that look and Matt’s gonna seethe and support in equal measure – ) 

But Matt has a lot of little unhealthy habits. Matt’s gotta work on it, _yes, of course,_ no, he _can’t_ ignite a cigarette in a pressurized air cabin of a _rocket ship_ , because _no_ , he does not want to set the crew on fire, _yes, Shiro, he gets it_.

Doesn’t mean Matt’s not a little twitchy, though. Or maybe – maybe a _lot_ twitchy. Tap-tap fingers and shaky hands and trembling too-wide smiles, all that stuff. Katie makes fun of him for it, through her tired frizzy video-call voice – still just waiting at home ‘til she’s _old enough_ to apply for top-quality space school and everything – 

Well, whatever. He’s fine.

“Matt, you forgot your glasses again,” Shiro says, his mouth set into that _your-mother-isn’t-here-so-I’ll-do-it-instead_ line.

Oh.

He reaches for his face – well, he almost smacks himself in the eye with the hand holding the coffee, and _those things get hot, holy shit_ – and _then_ he almost hits himself in the eye with his other hand, because – he’s that uncoordinated.

In his defense, it’s only 8:30. _No, shit, wait, it’s 9am_ – 

“Shiro,” Matt whines. His voice is wobbling, _god, it shouldn’t be wobbling_ – what’s wrong with him? What’s up with him? “I really needed those glasses, didn’t I.”

Maybe he’s had too much coffee today. The thermos is shaking in his hand, just a bit – his hands are shaky, but that's – whatever. It's just the lack of sleep and the caffeine and the nicotine withdrawal. He’ll be fine.

“Yeah.” Shiro’s giving him that _look_ again. So much concern. “We’re doing another flight sim, Matt.”

"And I need to navigate," Matt says, defeated.

Of course. Of _course._ He doesn't – he really, really doesn't wanna mess up _another_ test sim and he needs his _fucking glasses_ to fucking _read_ – he's gotta read the screens and signs and know how to _navigate_ , he needs to know the numbers on the display and he has to be able to do some _basic_ flight and coordinate calculations – the gravitational assist each planet can provide to accelerate the shuttle to Kerberos, the values of each planet's mass, and surface gravity, and he has to get it _all together_. 

Has to know how much fuel is left and how to best conserve it, be _economical_ , and he has to know the velocity and coordinate location of the spacecraft, _and_ the oxygen levels, _and_ the food and water rations, _and_ the irradiation risks, and –

It's _too much_ , suddenly. 

It's too much to be thinking of being locked in a spacecraft away from his mom and sister and fresh air and Earth, except space is everything he's _ever wanted_ , he wanted to be apart of this mission _so badly_ and he worked his _ass off_ to get here, he swears he did, he promises he did, so –

So why is it – why is it –

God, why is it so hard now? Why is it _too much_? Why did all the neurons in Matt's brain that _craved_ and _coveted_ and _dreamed for_ center-space and cosmos, that wanted the orbits of planets so badly, every little axon fiber in his head – that _wanted this_ , so fucking _badly_ –

Why's it all gone?

Why's he so _tired_?

It's making his head hurt. It's making his hands shake. It's making Matt lean too-heavily against the wall, and he – god, he can't even look Shiro in the eye right now.

He's –

If he's real fucking serious, then he's seriously a mess right now.

"They're gonna take me off the mission," Matt says, a little distant and a little weary. He's running his hand through his hair, tugging a little harshly, a little brutally, he's probably gonna look even _more_ like a disheveled mess – "I can't keep up."

"Matt – "

"I'm a fucking _screw-up."_

Maybe he's being silly, but...He's been doing this for weeks. Matt's got his unhealthy habits, _yeah, yeah_ , he gets it –

– And Shiro's eyes go wide.

"Matt, you wanna sit down?"

"No, I just – " And his voice – is – god, is that his voice? He sounds fragile, like breaking glass, like the quiet crunch-shatter of ice-IX. It's like that in his lungs, too – feels like the rapid freezing of every fluid molecule until he c _an't breathe_ , like his lungs are blotchy with water crystals– "Sorry, I just – "

It takes him by surprise, but a loud, heavy sob erupts from his throat – involuntary and _loud_ , god, no, no –

Shiro's arm is warm around his shoulders, as he gently – _Shiro's gonna go far in life, with that face, with the soothing tone of his voice –_ gently coaxes Matt to sink to the floor beside him, back pressed up against the wall – they're outside of the _simulation room_ , and sure, their sessions are scheduled during designated class times for the undergrads, so it's not like many people are coming by here –

But still, anyone could walk in, and that just has Matt _wheezing_ a little bit, makes the ice in his head too _harsh_.

"Hey," says Shiro. His voice is soft, considerate. "Y'know a couple years ago, when we had to repeat Millikan's experiment, but we used black nail polish instead of oil?"

– Matt stops. "H-huh?" A hiccup escapes his throat, a flush rises in his cheeks. Fuck. He hisses in a breath and wipes at his eyes with sleeve – maybe he’s a little harsh about it, though, _ouch_.

“I did something stupid with nail polish again,” says Shiro. “I was like – supposed to be tutoring, y’know? One of the younger students. Uh, I think you’ve seen him before too – McClain? He’s a cadet? – but, basically, what ended up happening is that I ended up with nail polish all over my chest. Uh, right up in my nipples, to be honest.”

Matt – hiccups and gulps in a breath. “Shiro, what the _fuck_?” – and a hysterical giggle tumbles out of his mouth with it.

Shiro continues, without missing even a teeny-tiny beat. “It’s – actually really gross to feel. I thought you should know.”

“Why are you – ” Matt _sniffles_ , it sounds gross, wow, he inhales like a sloth with the flu or something – and just to be extra gross, he wipes it away with his sleeve. 

“Maybe that wasn’t a good story to tell,” Shiro admits. “Actually, okay, no, that’s – I’m not letting you have that blackmail material, forget about that.” Shiro nudges at Matt’s shoulder with his own. It’s warm, and it makes Matt let out another breath, slower this time. “What I’m _actually_ going to do, is rig the flight simulator to play really bad showtunes.”

“You – ” Matt snorts, wet and snotty. “Y’know sabotaging the Garrison’s equipment is like, grounds for expulsion, right?”

“I was gonna do it before we went up to Kerberos,” Shiro says seriously. “The day before the launch. We’d be exiting Earth’s orbit by the time it started.”

“That’s – ” Matt snickers weakly. “How’d’you plan on doing that?”

“Well,” Shiro says, raising his eyebrows. He locks his arm through Matt’s, gentle and comradely. “I was thinking I’d get one of the other space explorers on the Kerberos mission to help me. You know. Someone who forgets to wear his glasses all the time – aren’t they gonna get you eye surgery, for that, anyway?”

Matt laughs, his voice rough and hoarse, and rubs at his eyes one last time. “In a couple of months.”

Shiro pats him on the shoulder. “You wanna take a break, for today? I’ll tell Trainer Montgomery you were sick.”

“I’m – ” Matt coughs a little, blinks his eyes to clear his vision of leftover tears. “I’m – I’m okay now.”

“You’re not just saying that?” Shiro’s doing that puppy dog look again. Matt gives him a weak grin.

“No, I just – thanks, Shiro. _Thank you_.”

Shiro – pauses, eyes going just a little wide. Then he smiles. “No problem, Matt.”

Matt takes a deep breath. The ice crystals in his throat are thawing, warmed by the thought of their system’s Sun and the idea of exploration. 

And so Matt clears his throat, rests his head back against the wall, and smiles. “So, _how_ exactly are we gonna rig the simulators?”

**Author's Note:**

> talk to me @redlights-in-space on tumblr and @redspacelights on twitter!


End file.
